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Chapter 2
IWORKED FOR A MARKETINGcompany and it was February, in a down time, of sorts. So, it might have been more than luck on my side when I walked into his office to ask my boss for two weeks off, especially since it was such short notice. He agreed that I could have the time, though the way he only half-smiled when he said it made me feel like I might not have a job to come back to.
Perhaps it wasn’t good luck at all. Could’ve just been a squirrelly little man looking for an easy mark for downsizing. But I wasn’t going to worry about that yet. I had enough on my plate.
Liechtenstein was north and east compared to South Carolina. And the internet said the average temperature wasn’t much cooler than home. Probably wouldn’t drop to freezing, but I wasn’t taking chances.
And I didn’t have a lot of cold weather clothes, so I decided a shopping spree was in order. I called my best friend, Bree, and she met me in one of the local stores I frequented on a regular basis.
“I can’t believe you’re just up and going to Europe. And without me no less,” she lamented, shaking her head as we walked through Carolina Apparel.
“Well, if you have the money for a ticket, come with me,” I told her. I had savings too, so if we needed to pay for some sort of accommodation upgrade, I was all for it. “I’d love the company.”
Bree sighed and shook her head. “I can’t. There’s no way I’d get the time off work that quickly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
Bree was the executive assistant to some bigwig in a finance firm. She had to give him six months’ notice for a sick day. The money was good, though.
“Explain this whole thing to me again,” Bree said, holding a white shirt with cold shoulders and long sleeves up against me. “What exactly is going to happen when you arrive in some foreign country that you never planned to visit? You could get kidnapped and sold into a human trafficking ring. You know that, right?”
“Liechtenstein isn’t exactly known for human trafficking, Bree.” Certainly not more than they were known for their cartels. I’d done some research, and though there were definitely some risks. I’d looked up the safest ways to travel and I’d be checking in with people back home every day. I had a plan.
“Then what happens?” she asked again. “You get there, see the rich boy ticket buyer and what?”
I selected a wool sweater and some thick socks and put them on the pile of clothes I was buying. “Henryk’s steward called last night and gave me all the details.”
Now that had been an experience. The steward was a strange man with an even thicker accent than Henryk’s. All posh and haughty. I hoped the rest of Europe wouldn’t be like that too. If it was, I’d spend the whole trip rolling my eyes at everyone.
Bree grimaced, with a look that reminded me of the same uncertainty I’d experienced when I heard that phrase. “What the hell’s a steward?”
“I know, right? I think it’s some sort of butler or servant for a rich family.” A valet for a man. A maid for a woman. Rich.
Bree’s mouth fell open. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Well, anyway, the steward guy called. His name is Francis or something. Anyway, he said he would send someone to collect me from the airport, and then I’d meet Henryk and the other two guys at Henryk’s apartment, sign whatever I need to sign, and then we’d be done.” And my first “marriage” would be no more than a vague memory from days gone by.
Such a weird concept. I still couldn’t fathom that a bunch of kids playing wedding with daisy chains could actually be legal. There was no license. No witnesses. Well, except each other. A marriage like this certainly wasn’t legal in the United States.
Bree grinned at me. “So, your guy’s servant is gonna send more servants to annul your play wedding?”
I laughed at the very idea of having such a chain of command beneath me. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Bree picked up a pair of jeans. “Oh, these are cute. Go try them on.”
I grabbed them and checked the size. “I’m not a size six, Bree, but they’re cute. Grab a size ten.”
Bree didn’t argue, just threw me the jeans and we headed to the changing rooms. They fit great but were loose at the waist, which was often my problem. I had a small waist, but thick thighs and hips.
Dresses looked fine on me, but jeans weren’t so easy to fit.
“You nailed it,” I said to my friend. “These are great.”
“I’ll get the other stuff,” she called to me. “Try on some of the sweaters, too.”
I waited for her to bring me more clothes and went over the last day in my head for the hundredth time. I was going to Europe to sign away a marriage that, to me, was just ludicrous. Even if there was some sort of law in the words of a child’s promise to another child, surely being seven years old should make anything about that situation null and void?
She flicked a pink sweater over the door, and I dragged it down and brushed my hands over the delightful fabric. “This is so soft.”
